


Faith

by msgenevieve



Category: Prison Break
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-14
Updated: 2008-08-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msgenevieve/pseuds/msgenevieve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the midst of madness, there is sometimes peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by one particular spoiler picture for Scylla.

~*~

[ ](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v24/msgenevieve/?action=view&current=2cxg66g.jpg)

There was once a time in Sara Tancredi’s life when she believed everything she read in the dog-eared romance novels she sneaked into the house past her father’s watchful eye. That love at first sight existed, that love conquered all, that there was no bullet wound or fatal consumptive disease that could stand in the way of true desire.

Then she grew up, and realised there was a reason those books were called fiction. 

She no longer believed in love at first sight.

She stopped buying the notion that love could make you brave enough to do unimaginable things. 

She rolled her eyes at the scenes that had once thrilled her teenaged soul, scenes depicting an injured hero and traumatized heroine clinging to each other as they succumbed to their passion. _Who in their right mind_ , she’d wondered scornfully, _would feel like succumbing to passion when they were battered and bruised and broken?_

Now, as she sits in a stuffy hotel room, dressed in the only clean clothes she possesses, her body battered and bruised, she lifts her hand to touch the face she thought she’d never see again. The tears and the urgent words of apology and reaffirmation have dissolved into silence, leaving nothing between them but the gentle touch of her hand on his face and the warmth of his thigh pressed against hers. The darkness in her head recedes further with every pulse of the blood in her veins, the steady rhythm of his breathing. He presses his forehead to hers, his heat surrounding her, and beneath the pain and the bruises and the darkness, she feels a pang of longing so raw she almost flinches. 

Then Michael kisses her, his mouth soft and sure on hers, a languid reclamation of everything that was almost lost, and she knows she’d been wrong to stop believing.

~*~


End file.
